


you

by deathlytireddan



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, copious useage of the word “gentle” to describe dan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:55:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23188858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathlytireddan/pseuds/deathlytireddan
Summary: Set in vague points during the year Dan created BIG.I only want to help you, but sometimes I forget you have to be allowed to help yourself.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 15
Kudos: 85
Collections: phandomficfests: escape from reality





	you

You always talk about how much you need me, but I don’t think you realize how much _I_ need _you_.

-

You’re frowning at your computer, dark circles under your eyes, hand propping up your chin. A yawn makes my jaw crack and you glance over. 

“Bed?” You ask, already setting the laptop down, showing bullet points followed by typed up ramblings that kinda defeat the point of bullet points. 

“Sure, okay,” I yawn again, letting you pull me up. I stumble, and you grip my elbow with your hand, gently righting me and nudging me toward the hallway. I hear the laptop shut, and the lights flick off, your footsteps moving to the front door to be sure it’s locked.

We stand in front of the mirror wearing matching sleepy expressions and minty mouths. You make horrified expressions while I pull my eyelids down, and move the contact lens case off the top as I leave.

You close the curtains while I pull the blankets down, sneaking one of the pillows off the bed and into the closet.

Your warm legs tangle with mine, cold feet on my cold feet, warm breath on my neck. “One pillow, huh.” 

“I’m cold.”

You laugh, a warm, low rumble that pushes into my chest. I make grabby hands under the blankets and you put your arms around me.

“Goodnight, baby.”

It’s gross, disgusting, terrible, something we always make fun of. You’d never say if you were more than nine percent awake, and you never remember all the times you do. It makes my face feel warm. 

“Hm, nice to know I ‘an still make you red,” you mumble.

I tell you to shut up and you do, breathes coming slower and slower, evening out into sleep.

-

You’re frowning again, both hands on your cheeks, almost glaring at your screen. The bullet points are gone, replaced with what looks more like a script. There’s classical music leaking from the headphones over your ears. 

I set a mug of tea next to you and pull the headphones off your ears, setting them out of reach.

You glare up at me. “Phil.”

“You need a break.” 

You run a hand through your hair, making it stand on end. The sides are long, tickling your ears. I don’t think you’ve been out of the house for a couple weeks, except popping down to the corner shop, and to the front door for take out.

You huff, but you save your document and close the laptop, crossing your arms like a disgruntled toddler.

You look exhausted.

“C’mon, let’s go for a walk.” I tug you up. “A walk and food, and a shower. And drink your tea.”

You gulp it down, still looking annoyed, mumbling something about _mum_ and _Phil_ while I dig out trousers and one of your striped shirts. It’s starting to get a little threadbare with how often you wear it.

“You have clean pants on?”

“Fuck’s sake, Phil. I’m not totally incapable of functioning without you.”

“I don’t see much evidence of that right now, Dan.” My voice is chilly and I regret it immediately. You close off instantly. Not just your face but your whole body, turning away from me. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Whatever. I’ll get dressed.” 

It’s a clear dismissal, and I leave the bedroom, feeling terrible. I only want to help you, but sometimes I forget you have to be allowed to help yourself.

It hurts to watch, though. Seeing you beating yourself up for weeks on end, putting two feet forward and then falling, losing whatever battle is going on inside your head.

You join me in front of the door, hands stuffed into your pockets. Your curls look cleaner, a bit gray with dry shampoo. I sigh, and push one back into place.

You lean into my hand. 

“I’m sorry,” I say again. You nod, smile slightly, stepping away to open the door. 

We’re at peace again. I only wish you could be the same with yourself.

-

It’s the early hours of the morning, that time when I’ve stopped feeling tired, given up on sleep. An hour ago I wanted to cry from frustration, but I’ve accepted that sleep isn’t an option. My head is too busy going around and around and around.

I know you’re out there, can hear the faintest sounds of you typing if I close my eyes and listen hard.

I slip out of bed, taking a blanket with me, shoving my feet into your slippers. The day had been cold, and the night is frigid.

I creep out into the lounge, watching you from the doorway. You’re reading, a steaming mug halfway to your mouth. You look pleased.

I exhale, moving toward the sofa. You look up with a little grin and lift an arm. I sink down into your side, shivering. “How’s it going?”

“Good, I think.” You finally finish bringing the mug to your mouth and take a sip, then pass it to me. I wrap my hands around it. “Here,” you say, scrolling up to the top. It’s a mix of bullet points and larger typed up sections, notes on music and lights and other things I can’t catch. It looks like you. 

“Wanna read it?” You bite your lip. 

“Yeah,” I nod, turning the screen toward me. “I do.”

-

“It’s perfect,” I say. 

I don’t know what to say. 

It’s perfect, and it’s more than that. It’s made of you, the old one and this newer part of you. It’s the best thing you’ve done, I think. It’s the most terrifying thing you’ve done.

“There’s...you don’t think I should change anything? Move anything around?”

I shake my head, still looking at the last frame you’d paused it on. “It’s good.” 

You don’t need me to tell you what to fix anymore.

“You don’t think...” you trail off.

“I love it. And you.” I pull you toward me to emphasis the point.

The day had been warm, spring finally arriving with a bang and leaving us with open windows and sweat. You smell good, just a bit of cologne left behind, covered up by the smell I’ve always loved, since the early days. 

“Are you sniffing my shirt?” You ask suspiciously.

“Maybe,” I laugh, leaning back enough to kiss you firmly, arms around your neck. I try to lean closer, lift a leg to get on your lap, and the laptop falls on the ground. “Shit!”

You roll your eyes. “Philll.” You quickly look it over for cracks, then shove it aside with your foot. “C’mere, you.” 

Your eyes are warm golden brown, looking less tired than they have for the last ten months, the last few years, your whole life, as long as I’ve know you existed.

I go, gladly, laughing into your mouth.

-

The day has been long, and difficult, with tears and hugs and more tears. It’s blending into the next day, now. You’re laying on your back on the bed, phone on your chest, eyes on the dark ceiling. Your face is red and blotchy, eyes rimmed in red.

I don’t think you’ve ever looked more beautiful than you do now. 

You sniff, wiping your nose on your sleeve, and look up, noticing my gaze. 

“Will you be able to sleep at all?” I ask, doubting it. 

Your phone buzzes before you can answer, and you lift it off your chest to look.

“Important?” 

You shrug. “Not really.” Surprising me, you set it on the nightstand and turn on your side to look at me.

I slide down the bed, muffling a yawn.

“Are you okay, Phil?”

I feel a lump in my throat. “Are you?” I counter, going for a smile.

You shrug, eyes looking wet again. You swallow and rub your face, looking frustrated with your own emotions. “I don’t regret anything, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“It’s not.”

You sigh. “I’m okay. It’s...”

“Fuck, I know.”

You snort, and turn your face into my chest. I hold you close, breathing in and out. I feel close to bursting with pride and love for you, for you having the courage to do this thing, for the person you’ve become while I’ve watched you grow up. 

I don’t tell you that, though. You’re too full of your own emotions to take any of mine. There’s time tomorrow to talk.

Before too long your phone buzzes again, and you turn away to look. Whatever is on it makes you grin. I get up, collecting our empty mugs to go make more tea. 

I glance back, watching you type on your face, the screen illuminating the circles under your eyes, your oily hair, the bits of biscuit crumbs clinging to your shirt sleeve.

I love you.

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve not written anything like this before, so please let me know what you think!
> 
> [reblog on tumblr here](https://mylionbabe.tumblr.com/post/612864721184489472/you)


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